Sunday, March 11, 2012

View from the Inside...Lorne's Voice Pt. 9 (cont.)


I also worry about my ability to adapt and adjust to a society, which will be at least two decades more advanced than the one which I left.  Consider first that my arrest occurred in the early half of 1999 and what our society and culture was like at that time.  For example, cellphones were not commonplace; cars were simple key driven affairs with nothing more than a CD player in the dash; the Pentium II was Intel’s newest processor; Windows 98 was the OS of choice; DVD players had just debuted at Comdex, flatscreen TVs were unheard of on this continent, etc.  Then consider what the world was like in the early half of 1979.  For example, the Atari 2600 was THE home video game console; cellphones were practically unheard of; disco was in; fuel injection was for high end sports cars; Sony hadn’t even invented the compact disc (remember cassette tapes?) and the top of the line personal computers were the Apple IIe, the original commodore and Radio Shack/Tandy’s TRS-80 (seen one of those lately?).  Now imagine that a person inadvertently stepped into a time machine (Dr. Who style) on a spring day in 1979 and came out on that same spring day in 1999.  How would that person feel and react, especially if they knew they couldn’t go back to 1979? Would the world feel familiar or utterly alien do you think? I wholeheartedly believe that the time traveler would feel as though they were an utter and complete anachronism, even after a lengthy period of adaptation and acclimation.  And, feeling that way is very scary, not just for me but for many a convict who has served a lengthy term of incarceration.  I mention it now because after more than 12 years, the world has finally changed enough where its alien qualities are too prevalent to remain subtle and unnoticeable.  It makes me wonder if 12 years is the threshold value for institutionalization; interestingly enough, as I recall, Sweden does not have a term of incarceration which exceeds 12 years with the possible exception of a crime against humanity.
The obvious question is why I don’t seek treatment.  There are a few reason for this.  First and foremost, I have taken antidepressants before, and in my experience, they do little to alleviate my depression and do little else other than make me feel “fuzzy”, make it difficult for me to think straight, to be sharp and quick as I know I can be.  That scares me to death, because my intellect is everything to me, my strongest asset. And under no circumstances can I afford to permanently damage my intellect, which these drugs may do and may have already done.  Second, surprisingly, despite these new found deviations from my traditional thought patterns and personality traits, I am still too comfortable with the person I am to tamper with how I think; I like myself and that’s the bottom line.  Third, I don’t trust prison mental health staff to have my best interests at hear.  I truly believe that they’ll just give me whatever drug they think will get me out of their hair.  Fourth, inmates are penalized for being on psychotropic medication.  It adds an extra point in the penal system’s mathematical formula for determining custody level of an inmate (minimum, medium, or close/max).  the parole board has, in the past, seemingly taken a dim view of inmates who require psychotropic medication, making them out to be more dangerous than mentally stable felons.  Plus it necessitates going to pill call and dealing with that hassle, because inmates are not permitted to keep psychotropic medications on their persons or in their cell.  Fifth and last, I am confident in my belief that all of the disorders, which I am currently experiencing, the OCD, the bipolar disorder and the depression or at least many of their symptoms will be largely, if not completely ameliorated by my release from prison.  I will then be able to exert a greater degree of control over my life and environment, although I may then have to deal with PTSD and adaptation issues. 
By the time this article is posted, my cellmate will finally have been released.  I am very happy for him, especially as I believe that he will be one of the very few who avoid returning to this hell.  As for me, however it means that I have the added stress of anticipating whatever random guy whom they stick in my cell to replace him, the “lop of the draw” as many in here say.  I dread that the replacement will be some racist knucklehead who’s constantly “in the mix” and brings heat on my cell.  I am concerned that such would be the proverbial straw that breaks the camels back.  And yet, there’s one thing that would instantly make all of this more eminently bearable, if not downright trivial: the certainty of knowing that I had less time left to serve then the time which I’ve already served, or in other words, that I’m over the hump, the halfway point.  It seems so insignificant on its face yet it truly means everything.
Nevada is one of the only, of not THE only state in which an offender does not know the date of his/her release until two weeks or even less prior to release.  An inmate cannot even be sure of the latest possible date of release-expiration of sentence as opposed to release on parole- because  that date fluctuates as well, based upon a number of factors such as job, disciplinary status, meritorious credit for completion of programs and the like.  And sometimes, the difference between release on parole and expiration of sentence can be vast, especially when multiple consecutive sentences are involved.  Such is the case with me.  As things stand now, I could potentially return to the community in a wee bit more than six years if I am released on parole. (Based upon prior appearances before the parole board, I find that to be extremely unlikely, but it is possible) But in the absence of release on parole, my return to the community is more than 18 years away!  That is a disparity of – hey, what do you know?- 12 years, almost the same amount of time which I’ve already been incarcerated.  That is an enormous uncertainty for me to contemplate and accept.  In contrast, had I been incarcerated in California, Arizona, Colorado or any number of states, I would have known beyond a shadow of doubt exactly when I was to be released from prison within a month of arriving at the reception facility.
I have come to believe, based upon my experiences, some of which I have related in this blog, that the Nevada penal system maintains a secret, unspoken policy of mentally abusing, punishing and perhaps even torturing its inmates.  It starts with the statutes for sentencing and for the penal system, which creates the sometimes enormous disparities which I previously outlined.  It continue with the statutes which empower the parole board, granting that body practically unfettered discretion in the granting or denying of parole and stripping those subject to the decisions of that body, any recourse, meaningful or otherwise.  It appears in the attitudes of court officials, our judges, our district attorneys and their deputies, and our Attorney General and her deputies, especially when we have valid, meritorious claims to litigate, (be the proceedings civil or criminal).  But perhaps it is no more readily apparent, at least to us inmates, on a daily basis that in the attitudes of prison and penal system officials, from the Department of Corrections on down.  Onerous, oppressive regulations are written which place very few restrictions upon correctional officers, yet those regulations never seem to be enforced when an officer’s conduct is so abhorrent and abusive, that it violates those regulations.  For example, here at Southern Desert Correctional Center, a vast majority of officers yell and cuss at us, violating Admin Regulation 339.  Associate warden of programs, Cheryl Burson, denies all such grievances, responding that we don’t need to quote regulations to her because she knows them.  This is behavior, which isn’t even allowed in our nations military boot camps anymore, but apparently, we have to take it because we’re lowly felons; the dregs of our society, the worst of the worst, human garbage better off discarded. 
Nevada is ranked 43rd among the states in the care and treatment of its mentally ill citizens, so I heard on the local news tonight.  With such a poor track record, I suppose that it really is no surprise that such little concern is given to the impact this omnipresent mental anguish has upon the states inmate population.  Being mathematically inclined, it makes me wonder what percentages of Nevada’s total inmate population are mentally ill.  I would be really interested to know what percentage of the inmate population developed at least one mental health disorder while incarcerated and what percentage of the total mentally ill population are felons and ex-felons.  Perhaps the Bureau of Justice Statistics or some other agency can shed some statistical light on this subject, but I unfortunately lack the data at hand.  Maybe, just maybe, its worth looking in to. 

As a note to you faithful readers whom I’ve alienated with this personal and revealing article, this article took more than a month to write.  Although I endeavor to keep article flowing without excessive delay, some topics, especially deeply personal ones it seems, do not proliferate as easily as others, and I am by no means immune to writers block.  All I can ask is that you please bear with me, because more will come, eventually though it may be.
As it happens, the delay provided an interesting final thought for this article.  A week or so ago, a new arrival on our tier, an older African –American fellow, asked me during the course of a conversation about how much time I’ve done and have yet to do how I manage to keep it together after so long.  I looked at him quizzically, and he explained that practically everybody he knows who has served a decade or more is messed up in the head.  I truly did not know how to respond.  After a few moments of speechlessness and stammering, all I managed to say was something to the effect of “I just take each day as it comes.  What else am I going to do? Nothin’ but keepin’ on keepin’ on.”  Apparently, I was convincing enough because he accepted my answer.  And yet, as this article aptly demonstrates, its all a lie, a façade which I unconsciously  project out of force of habit because it is not the socially nor culturally acceptable for me to be the way or feel the things which I have described and related herein or share these thoughts, feelings or revelations with other inmates.  We’re all supposed to be big, tough, strong, hard men right? Yeah right.  So at least now, YOU know.  And now, I’ll go back to trying my best to keep on keepin’ on.  I just don’t know if trying my best is going to get the job done. 

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